To Love and Die In South Park
by Angel-Hunteress
Summary: When a new kid befriends Stan, Kyle gets jealous. But unknown to everyone...it's a girl! As she's falling for Stan while keeping up the charade, Stan's questioning his own sexuality and certain feelings for his best friend. STYLE, StanOC, KennyOC, Candy
1. Hitler, Betrayal, and Push Up Bras

**To Love and Die In South Park**

Okay. This is my first South Park fanfic, since I just got started on it (but I've watched a WHOLE lot of episodes so far!)

The title is based on the Family Guy episode 'To Love and Die In Dixi' which is what inspired me to write this, and should in no way be taken literally.

Also, every chapter's gonna be through a different point of view and thus have different tones reflecting their personality (i.e. Kyle is more verbose and wordy as he's academic, Stan's is a little more emotional, Kenny is a little, well, perverted and also observant, and Cartman's is...well, Cartman.)

Anyway. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 1: Hitler, Betrayal and Push-up Bras**

The Marsh house was silent in the early morning as the sun began to creep out. There was barely a sound, except for the soft snoring from one sixteen-year-old Stan Marsh.

"Stan!" a woman's voice shouted from behind the closed door. "Stan, Kyle, get up! Time for school!"

The boy muttered an incoherent reply, opening his eyes for a second before closing them again.

"Stan," his mother persisted, roughly calling him out of his dream-state once again.

He groaned, opening his eyes. "Mom, it's like 6:30!"

"No, dumbass, your clock's broken," came a boy's voice from somewhere in the room.

He looked over to the spare bed across the room (a good idea, which they came up with in the fifth grade because Kyle spent the night there so often) but saw it was empty.

Reluctantly, Stan sat up, looking around.

"It's seven, and you and Kyle have got to finish that project that's due _today_!" his mother continued.

Stan yawned as sleep began to wear off, cursing the day that Shelley moved out of the house and thus made his parents give him all their attention. Since then, it seemed as if no matter what he did, and no matter how hard he tried to hide it from them, his parents would always find out, and their reactions were sometimes less than pleasant and almost always surprising.

"Stan?"

"All right, Mom, I'm up!" There was a pause, and it seemed at his first coherent sentence, his mother left.

"Kyle?" he called out to the seemingly empty room.

"Right here, dude," came the reply.

He sat up further, looking down at the floor. There was the red-head, his super-best friend since before he could remember, sitting crossed legged with a large board lying in front of him.

"Jesus Christ, Kyle! Did you sleep at all last night?"

Kyle rolled his eyes as he glided a gluestick over a small sheet of paper. "I only got up an hour ago. Thought I'd work on this, since we keep putting it off all week. You gonna sit there on your lazy ass or are you gonna work on this thing?"

"What's left to do?" he asked through a yawn.

"Just the glue," he replied, tossing Stan a gluestick as the raven-haired boy made his way over. Stan barely caught it.

"Holy shit, dude," Stan said in awe as he looked over the once-barren board. "You didn't do this in an hour."

"All right, so maybe I did some stuff last night, too." The redhead shrugged.

Stan looked at him incredulously. "Dude, you have issues."

"It's due _today, _Stan. In like an hour." He shrugged. "Besides, I always get up early."

True, as Kyle was usually reading or eating breakfast downstairs by the time Stan woke up, since Kyle's mother usually woke him up at 6:00 or even 5:30. Which, Stan supposed, was a big reason why he didn't spend the night at the Broflovskis' very often during school days.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Stan asked quietly.

"Last time I tried that you gave me a black eye, remember?" Kyle half-joked. "Besides, I know how bitchy you can get in the mornings."

"For the last time, I hit you in my sleep! I didn't realize..." he trailed off when Kyle began to laugh. "Anyway. Thanks, dude. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You're such a girl," the redhead said, smiling. "Now work."

Both worked quickly and quietly, finishing the project in less than twenty minutes. After which, the boys got ready for school.

Stan changed into a pair of dark blue jeans and a green t-shirt, Kyle into a pair of green khakis and a brown Terrance-and-Phillip tee. Both raced down the stairs for a quick breakfast, Kyle holding the board in his hand.

After breakfast, the two grabbed their coats off of the coat-rack.

As Kyle shrugged on his new yet familiar orange coat and Stan donned his blue and red hat, Stan couldn't help but laugh.

"What?" asked Kyle as he began to put the green _ushanka_ on his short but curly red hair.

"Just...it's like old times, you know?"

Over the weekend, two days before, their friend Kenny McKormick had found an orange parka much like the one he wore when they were younger. It fit him, and he had worn it for the day as a joke.

Of course, it had led to conversations about their childhood, reminiscing of good (and bad) times, and Kyle and Stan had both gone out to buy a coat similar to the one they wore, using their old hat and gloves from when they were younger. The last boy, however, Eric Cartman, decided to follow their lead, but because of the fat jokes and teasing, he decided instead on using the same coat from when he was eight, determined to show them that he had lost weight.

Which, of course, led to the whole school finding out about their idea, and officially the school dubbed today as 'Retro Day.' Everyone from elementary school would dress as they used to. Of course, the others from the other elementary schools would probably dress 'retro' but they wouldn't know.

There were a lot of differences from today to seven years ago, Stan noticed as he looked at his friend. Not only the obvious ones, like the fact that Kyle had grown taller and more toned. His eyes became a darker shade of green, his differently styled red curls poking through beneath the hat, his face more mature now with seven more years behind him.

It was kinda weird.

"You look a hell of a lot different, too," Kyle replied.

"How the hell do you do that? It's like you're psychic or something," Stan asked, shocked that his best friend seemed to hear his thoughts.

"I was one for a while, if you haven't forgotten," Kyle replied, stepping into his boots. He scowled, looking up at Stan. "Then again, you were, too, though _I _was never on TV."

"Dude, we were _both_ fake," Stan rolled his eyes. "And besides, mine was only to prove the point that John Edward was the biggest douche in the universe."

"Naturally," the red-head smiled as he opened the door.

"I can't believe Cartman actually is going through with this," Stan began as they both walked out the door toward the bus stop. "I think that all this is worth seeing Fat-Ass in that old coat."

Kyle grinned. "Yeah, but you know he only did it so he wouldn't feel left out. Plus you know how much he likes being the center of attention for everything."

They approached the bus stop, where they took in an all but familiar sight: a somewhat short and slightly (though the others would never admit it, he _had_ lost a lot of weight) chubby teen wearing jeans and a very small red coat with a blue and yellow hat talking with a taller boy hidden beneath a dark orange parka, strands of blond hair poking through.

Kyle turned to Stan, a mischievious smile behind his eyes as he approached the two unseen.

"Hey, guys." His voice was much higher, much like his childhood self had been like. So much so it made the two turn with wide eyes and even surprised Stan.

"Holy shit, dude, how the fuck'd you do that?" asked a very surprised Kenny.

"Kenny, you know no Jews hit puberty since their weiners are gone. That's Kyle's regular pussy voice. He only makes it _sound_ deeper."

Kyle rolled his eyes, the first verbal attack rolling right off. "Shut up, Fat-Ass. You're just mad cause I scared the crap outta you."

"'Aye! I'm not fat you stupid Jew! Look at the coat!"

"Oh yeah, those jelly rolls hanging out _prove_ your not a Fat-Ass. You're just a stupid Fat-Ass."

Stan rolled his eyes as the daily banter continued. He turned to Kenny. "So, how'd your project turn out?"

The blonde rolled his eyes. "Oh, _great. _We did a PowerPoint. Or I should say _I_ did. This asshole made me do all the work while he watched re-runs of Fat Abbot and Terrance and Phillip and gained a whole twenty pounds."

"And I payed you to work, didn't I? So you can go pay your five-dollar rent for your crappy rat-infested shithole," replied Cartman.

"Fuck you, you blood belching vagina!"

"Go screw Jew-boy you pussy-eating lesbo!"

"At least I eat pussy!"

The silence fell over the two, replaced with laughter. Stan and Kyle quickly joined in.

Their laughter subsided with only a light 'goddamn you, Kenny' from Cartman.

"Well, at least we know that we can still understand Kenny," Stan observed.

"Yeah," Kyle agreed. "You know, when we get there everyone's gonna be looking. And Ms. Garrison..."

"I know!" Stan continued. "That he/she follows us everywhere! Somepne's bound to say something."

The bus pulled up, opening their doors.

Kyle stopped, looking thoughtful. "Hey, you know something, you guys? This is gonna be the last time we wait here. I mean, now that I've got my license..."

"Carpool!" Cartman grinned, the thought of not having to walk to the bus stop everyday winning over his dislike for Kyle. "You know, Kyle, you've always been _such_ a great Jew friend--"

"You're walking to school still, Fat-Ass. You need to drop some weight," Kyle replied, rolling his eyes as he walked onto the bus while Cartman spit out an insult.

The four split into their usual seats: Stan and Kyle sharing what was common knowledge as 'their seat' in the far back, Cartman sitting either next to Wendy or Butters depending on how much he had pissed off the former, and Kenny next to the lucky Girl of the Day.

"Dude, do you _seriously_ have to drive?" Stan asked. "I mean, it's probably more expensive than riding the bus. I mean, this _is_ America, after all."

"You're coming with, you know," Kyle replied softly as he turned his head and looked out the window.

Stan's eyes widened. "See, you did it again! How do you know?"

"Stan, we've been super-best friends since preschool. You'd think I'd know a thing or two about you by now."

There was a pause. "H-hey, Kyle?"

"No, I don't know what you're thinking now."

"Goddamn you!" he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he saw his friend smiling.

There was a comfortable silence as both turned t their left and loked out the window. The South Park High was a good fifteen minutes from the bus stop, plus other stop the bus made to pick up others.

Stan heard Kyle sigh, causing his attention to shift from the scenery to his friend instead. His eyes were closed, a content smile on his face. He opened them, his green eyes meeting Stan's blue in the reflection in the window.

"H-hey, Kye?" Stan asked timidly. "Can I come with you to the DMV?"

Both knew whatthe DMV could be like, and the bus ride there. It would be a long ride into North Park and an even longer wait in the lines to get his license, and the ride back was most likely going to take place in the dark and driving through Middle Park at night was not the safest thing to do since cross-town rivalry started between the high schools.

Alone, Kyle would make it, but with Stan it would pass the time, make them both feel better and the trip would be much more pleasant and fun.

The red-head smiled. "Sure, dude. But only if you want."

"Yeah," Stan replied. "I got nothing better to do."

They both fell silent again, this time Stan facing forward. He had seen the same scenery for the past two years, and it wasn't unfamiliar to begin with. He sighed, and then stopped abruptly from surprise when he felt something collide with his shoulder.

He turned slightly, though he already knew what it was, seeing a mass of red curls. He smiled, causing Kyle to look up.

"Sorry," said the younger boy, beginning to raise his head.

Stan shook his head, seeing the full fatigue in his friend that he had been hiding. "No, it's fine. Kyle, tell me you didn't stay up all night working on this."

They met eyes again, Kyle looking away, a slight redness in his cheeks. "No, dude. Course not."

"You're a terrrible liar."

Kyle sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, a habit Stan swore Kyle had adapted from him. He reopened them, meeting Stan's eyes again.

"It's just...we kept putting it off, you know? Hanging out or playing Rockband and stuff. I mean, Manette rides our asses enough as it is."

"You're like his Teacher's Pet!"

"Well, that'd all change if I didn't do the project, right?" Kyle retorted. Then his gaze dropped, his eyes avoiding Stan's. The redness in his cheeks began to darken. "Besides, I know you need this grade."

Stan's jaw dropped. "Kyle, I am just about everything in my power _not_ to hit you right now. I can't believe you just said that! You are under no circumstances going to pull an all-nighter for my sake! Now put your head back on my shoulder and go to sleep!"

Kyle smirked, closing his eyes and resing his head on Stan's shoulder once again. "You're welcome."

With a deep sigh, he succumbed to sleep in a matter of seconds. Stan decided to do the same, resting his own head on Kyle's. As he began to close his eyes, he saw the familiar drawing they made in the third grade that marked this seat as theirs: _K.B + S.M. BFFS 4 EVER._

Stan sighed too, closing his eyes and smiling. "Thanks, Kyle."

--

Stan awoke to a very painful and blunt hit on on the head, which forced the other side of his head to collide with something else. By the time he groaned and winced, he had been hit twice more.

He opened his eyes in time to see nine-year-old Cartman swing a hardcover _Tale of Two Cities_ book at him, striking him again.

"Wake up, faggots!" he called.

Stan opened his mouth to say something when he felt something stir beneath his head. He lifted his head, the day coming back. He realized Cartman was _sixteen_ and not nine, that today was 'Retro Day' and that the unruly mess of red was in fact Kyle, who was waking up from a much-needed-but-not-enough nap after staying up all night _for him._

They met eyes, smiling.

Cartman wrinkled his nose. "God, you guys really are queer. Come on, Kenny. Let's leave these two _homo erections_ in their morning-after."

Kenny laughed as Cartman walked down the bus isle, but did not follow him. Instead, he turned toward Stan and Kyle. who were standing up, raising an eyebrow at them.

"So how long have you been sleeping together?"

"Kenny, we are _not _sleeping together!" Kyle huffed.

"You've stopped? Bored in the bedroom? Could help if maybe you added a third once in a while. And seeing as how close we are--"

"Gross, Kenny!" Stan inturrupted. "You'd really do anything, wouldn't you?"

Kenny laughed as they made their way down the bus. "I think you two going at it would be pretty hot. Besides, chicks seem to _love_ my flexibility. In more than one way."

He winked and ran off, finding a cute Sophomore girl to hit on. Same old Kenny.

The two entered the school, Kyle insisting he hold the project. "So I'm gonna stick this in Manette's room."

"Not yet. I still gotta hit you for last night."

"Ooh, please tell me there's gonna be spanking involved."

Stan wrinkled his nose, playfully hitting Kyle in the arm. "Dude, you hang around Kenny _way _too much."

"Nah, I just like screwing with your head," Kyle shrugged.

"Don't think you're getting off that easy," Stan started seriously. "I don't want you falling asleep during your classes. I'll have Cartman use a cattle prod and Kenny stick things down your pants every time you start sleeping."

"I'm sure they'd both love that," Kyle realized, serious.

"That's how I'd know they'd do it."

He was most concerned for his friend's health, though. Second semester of Freshman year, Kyle had stayed up for three days straight and had lived off of coffee and sugar. He had ended up in a diabetic coma for two days and had had to postpone finals. Since then, Stan had been going easy on him, not even staying up later than two in the morning.

As the two walked down the hall, Stan recognized a few people by their clothing. Craig and Clyde were still close, talking in their group while Craig flipped off somebody, causing them all to burst into laughter.

As they were looking at all the other people, a very good-looking girl in purple and pink bumped into them as she was leaving her locker. She bit her lip nervously when she recognized them.

"Hey, Kyle," Stan's girlfriend since fourth grade, Wendy Testaburger said. Her blue eyes met Stan's briefly before she looked away. "H-hey, Stan."

She clutched her books more tightly, sighing. "Stan, can we talk later?"

Stan's eyebrows furroed in confusion. "Sure. Everything all right?"

Her eyes flickered to Kyle's for a second or two before looking back at Stan. "Later."

And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving a very confused Stan.

"What the hell was that about?" he asked.

"No idea. Listen, dude, I'm...gonna go stick this in the history room."

Kyle began walking away, but Stan caught his arm. "History's the other way."

"Oh. Guess I'll go the long way. Besides...I gotta talk to Tweak about a Math assignment."

"You mean you have to talk to _Wendy _about what just happened," Stan corrected.

"I...yeah." Kyle's eyes didn't meet Stan's.

Stan took the board from Kyle. "I'll take this to Manette's room. Talk to her. And try to tell me what's wrong."

Kyle looked down, his cheeks turning red. "Thanks, Stan. I-I'll see you fifth period."

And with that, he turned on his heel and half ran down the hall after Wendy.

Since Freshman year, Kyle and Wendy had many classes together. As the top two students they were almost _always_ partners in class (unless Stan or Bebe were in the room) and often studied together. The two had developed a strong friendship.

And although there were times when Kyle had reluctantly betrayed _her_ trust (for example, if Wendy thought Stan was getting too distant or if she needed space) Stan knew Kyle would never betray his trust and he trusted them together.

Now, however, there was a sinking feeling in his mind. When he looked around, he noticed people were staring at him.

It took a while to realize that people were staring at his clothes, seeing how different he looked.

Perhaps today wasn't the best day for 'Retro Day.'

He ignored all of this, especially the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he hurried to the History and to drop off the project, where he'd see Kyle in no less than three hours.

--

As it turned out, the encounter marked a series of interesting things that happened that day.

It was second period, English. Ms. Garrison, of course, was their teacher, as well as homeroom.

She walked into the room, followed by a strange boy.

"All right, class, we have a new student," Ms. Garrison started in her I'm-obviously-a-gay-male voice. "This is Sam, who just moved here. Try not to be little freaks and stare. Sam go sit down in an empty seat."

Stan got tapped on his shoulder as Ms. Garrison made her way to the desk. He turned around slightly, seeing a note on the top corner of Kenny's desk behind him. He picked it up, seeing the new kid sit in the seat next to him.

_Trouble in paradise?_ Kenny's spiky yet legible handwriting read.

Stan frowned, taking out a pencil. _What's that supposed to mean?_

As he turned to quickly hand it to Kenny, he and the new kid met eyes. He had blue eyes, Stan noticed, and realized that the new kid was observing the exchange between him and Kenny.

He turned back, listening to Ms. Garrison give a lecture on Charles Dickens, though time and time again she would go completely off-topic. Suffice to say, both the student body and Ms. Garrison both liked her better as a high school teacher, since she could talk more on-level with students and therefore didn't stray into celebrities all the time, though she still did occasionally.

As she turned around to write something on the board, Kenny tapped Stan on the shoulder again.

_All I'm saying is...Kyle's straight. And Wendy's straight, too._

What was he getting at? Stan sighed, rolling his eyes frustratedly.

_If this is another goddamn gay joke, then _I'll _be the one to kill you today._

He practically threw the note just in time as Ms. Garrison turned around, continuing on how Charles Dickens wrote all his novels, and how there wasn't supposed to be the last chapter in _Tale of Two Cities._

He was poked in the ribs with the eraser of a pencil, surprising Stan as he didn't expect Kenny to answer so quickly. As soon as Ms. Garrison turned around, he snatched the note.

_Hasn't Wendy talked to you yet?_

The sinking feeling returned. His mind was once more filled with the image of Kyle and Wendy in the library, talking and laughing together and having a good time. Why was he thinking like this? He trusted his girlfriend and his best friend together...right?

Stan frowned, a little upset that Kenny knew as much or more than he did.

_None of your goddamn business._

He glanced at the new kid, who had been watching earlier. Now, he was looking down at his notebook, writing or drawing something.

Stan stole a glance at Kenny, who only looked looked at him, an odd expression on his face.

"Stan," he whispered. "Don't hate Kyle. It was a shock to everyone."

At this, Stan's suspicions were raised tenfold.

--

The next five periods were hell, seeming like hours. The new kid was in his fourth and sixth period classes, Trigonometry and Chemistry, and as Stan waited for the bell to ring for history class in his seat, he was surprised to see the new kid walk in again, walking outside the class to talk to Mr. Manette.

Seventh period history was the one class where all four boys were in besides the already-passed lunch and homeroom. Of course, the latter two didn't really count since everyone had the same lunch and homeroom, separated by year since the high school was so small.

Stan looked over at Kyle, who before entering had been talking to Wendy again, before she left to her own respective classroom.

He didn't have a chance to talk to Kyle during their study hall, which was the only class besides History that they shared, and the unanswered questions were making him feel uneasy.

His stomach began turning, this time accompanied with a little jealousy. It had to be something else. Maybe people had been talking because Wendy and Kyle were study buddies. Maybe Wendy just wanted to assure Stan that nothing was going on between them, and that's why she wanted to talk to him. Maybe Kenny's note was him thinking along the same lines as everyone else. Yeah, that had to be it.

Kyle was unusually quiet, even as Kenny began talking to him.

Kyle looked...blank.

Stan took out a piece of looseleaf, ripping off a chunk, mimicking Kenny's earlier actions.

_What happened?_ he wrote, tapping Clyde on the shoulder and handing him the note. Clyde was used to being the middle-man of note-passing between the two and was happy to oblige.

It was at that moment that Mr. Manette wallked in, the new kid behind.

"Everybody, this is Sam, a new student to this school--"

As Mr. Manette began to have the class welcome the strange yet now-familiar boy, Cylde tapped Stan on the shoulder, giving him the note.

_Later,_ Kyle's neat and jagged handwriting replied.

What did Kyle mean? He wondered. That he would tell Stan later or that he would have to wait for Wendy? He turned toward him, but Kyle was looking down at his notes.

It wasn't until he heard his name being called that Stan turned back toward the teacher. The new kid was coming toward him, he realized, but then remembered the empty seat behind him.

The new kid, Sam, was on the short side, maybe 5'4 at best, with a thin tone similar to Kyle's. He had blue eyes and dark brown hair that stuck out under a dark green baseball cap. He wore a baggy army green jacket zipped up most of the way, a maroon shirt underneath, showing a bit below the collarbone. On the breast of the jacket was a medal of some sort, like a star. His tan pants were baggy.

"All right, now before we start the projects, let's open our books to review a bit--yes, new kid?"

"I don't have a book yet," said the new kid.

"Well, what do you know, Kenny, we got another kid as poor as you!" the teacher mocked.

At this, Kenny gave a witty and crude retort, but was censored by the parka.

"Actually, Mr. Manette, the school gives us the books," Kyle pointed out, wanting to get his project over with like the rest of the class.

"Well, gee, let me just get off my ass and go to storage and get it. Look...Stanley, why don't you just share with him."Mr. Manette, unfortunately, had the same sense of humor and patientce as Ms. Garrison. Coincidentally, the two were dating, and shortly after Ms. Garrison began to work at the high school, much to the students' frustration.

Stan reluctantly turned around, placing the book on the new kid's desk between the two.

The new kid scoffed. "What the hell's up that guy's ass?"

Stan sighed, a bit relieved at the normal statement. He was relieved that this kid's first words to him weren't English and gay like Pip's had been, annoying and aggrivating like Gregory's, pathetic and embarrassing like Mark's, or evil and psychotic like Damien's. Just...normal.

Stan smirked at the statement. "Ms. Garrison."

Sam made a face. "Sick, dude."

"Tell me about it."

There was a pause as Cartman eagerly--and correctly--answered a question about the accomplishments of Hitler, mostly at the expense of Kyle. Out of character still, the Jewish boy didn't react.

Something had to be wrong.

"So, you're Stanley?"

"Stan."

"Oh. I'm Sam, if you haven't guessed from all the teachers who like to embarass the shit me." The kid grinned and Stan smiled.

"So, where are you from?" Stan asked, curiosity getting the best of him. South Park could get so boring, and Sam was the first new kid since Freshman year, and even then the 'new kids' were only from the outskirts of Middle Park, who they often played against.

"Last few years I lived in Denver. My dad wanted to get away from the city life. Adjusting to a class of fifty instead of three-hundred, though, might take some time."

"All right, class," Mr. Manette began boredly. "I guess it's time we get these crappy little projects over with. Anybody want to go first? All right, Craig and Clyde can go first. And the rest of you should be taking notes and suggestions for afterward."

As Craig and Clyde half-BSed through their report, Stan began going over his own report. During his wait before school as Kyle talked to Wendy and in between classes, Stan wrote and memorized his own speech for the report, figuring it was the least he could do since Kyle did the board.

"Can I see?" Sam asked shyly.

Stan shrugged, handing him the paper. He read through it quickly, giving it back to Stan. "Pretty good. I did a paper on him last year."

"All right, who wants to go next? How about--_Eric, put your hand down!_--Tweak and Butters."

"What!" shouted Cartman, angry. Cartman had been almost falling out of his seat with his hand raised to be called on.

"So which one is your partner?" asked Sam.

Stan turned and gestured toward Kyle, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach once again.

"The kid with the green hat," Stan told him.

"Kyle, right?" Sam asked him. Stan nodded. "You two close?"

"Like brothers," Stan replied. "I've known him since birth, practically."

"Wow. That's awesome. I wish I had someone like that," Sam said, almost wistfully. "Sorry, that sounds kinda gay."

"Stan," Clyde whispered his name, tapping him on the shoulder. He indicated to Kyle, who was gesturing to the front, silently asking if he was ready to go next. Stan nodded.

"All right, now who wants to go? All right--_Eric, goddamn it, if I have to tell you to stop one more time, I'll give you an automatic F!_--Kyle and Stan? You wanna go?"

Cartman removed his hand from Kyle's head, as he was trying to push the boy out of his seat in an attempt to get called on first. Nobody but Cartman and Kenny knew the project topic, and it seemed to them (mostly Cartman) like a good surprise.

Stan rose out of his seat, Sam smirking.

He and Kyle walked parallel to each other down the row to the front of the room, Kyle placing the three-panel board on top of the provided desk, spreading it out in front of them. The two stood in front of it, to either side.

They weren't supposed to be long reports. Rather, it was supposed to be the board that was the project; the words were only to help support it and show that they knew what they were talking about.

"Benito Mussolini was an Italian politician who led the National Facist Party, and is credited with being the one who created the concept of Facism." Stan pointed to the picture of him. "His greatest accomplishments were the improvement of job opportunities and the economic system in Italy. He became one of the main figures on the Axis system in World War II. He was captured by the Allies, escaped and recaptured and executed by the Communist party."

He looked to Kyle, wqho began to do his part of the speech, talking about the concept of Facism. He remembered when they were working on it, he remarked that the school must be under Facist rule, since it seemed that everyone had to be the same.

He thought of how everyone followed the four's plans and dressed 'retro' and again found it to be ironically true.

He glanced at Sam, who was the only one (at least he assumed) who wasn't dressed as he did when he was younger. Still, there seemed to be something about this new kid that he couldn't place...

Sam was staring boredly at them, meeting Stan's eyes, startled. Kyle finished his speech, eliciting a small round of applause from the group before they put the board in the pile with everyone else's who had already gone.

"All right, who wants to go next? That's more like it, Eric. You and Kenny can go."

"Mr. Manette, if we may step out of the room for a second. It's all part of the project."

"All right, but if you ditch class one more time, I'm going to make you dress in drag at lunch and dance on the tables," Mr. Manette warned.

"I-I don't think Cartman'd have a problem with that," Butters stuttered, remembering the clip of Cartman dressed as Britney Spears. The kids snickered.

Ignoring Butters, Cartman smiled darkly. "Oh, don't worry, Mr. Manette. I wouldn't ditch an opportunity like this for the world. Come on, Kenny."

Stan looked toward Kenny, who was a seat in front of Kyle. The hooded blonde looked at Kyle sadly, mumbling something. Kyle looked straight ahead, still.

The two stepped out for a while as Bebe and her partner Rachel began talking out Winston Churchill and his accomplishments.

"You didn't do too bad," Sam admitted to Stan, and then smirked. "Considering this is all a crappy assignment."

"Thanks," Stan told him. "Actually, I got most of it from Wikipedia."

Sam smirked. "Nice."

The door opened a few seconds after Bebe and her partner finished, Kenny walking in first, the same as he had left. He wheeled in a overhead projector. "We're ready!" he shouted behind the hood as he pulled down the projector screen, opening his file.

"All right. Where's Eric?"

As if on cue, Cartman walked in, wearing a grayish-tan uniform, his dark brown hair parted to the side, a small dark square of a fake mustache on his upper lip.

"Oh, shit," Stan muttered.

The first PowerPoint slide popped up showing a picture of the man who Cartman emulated with a red background, a large title: ADOLF HITLER.

Stan sighed. Some things never changed. He looked two rows down at Kyle, who was beginning to turn red from either embarassment or anger. That must be why he had been so still.

"Genius. Visionary. Hero," Cartman began dramatically and enthusiastically, his eyes lit up. "That is how many people viewed Adolf Hilter. He was a young leader and a great speaker with solid views and beliefs. He started out poor, much like Kenny here, and started to hate Jews when he realized that they were only out to get his money like Jews usually do."

He pressed the spacebar, the next photo showing a young boy in a black and white picture, Hitler.

"Because all the Jews were hoarding the money because they're greedy bastards, Hitler told the country that they were responsible for the downfall of Austria. He wrote this all in his book _Mein Kampf_, a book, which I found very insightful."

"What's his problem?" Sam whispered to Stan.

"He's always had a Hitler-complex," Stan replied. "Ever since we were little. And Kyle's Jewish."

"Jews are cool. I used to date a Jew..." Sam murmured, half to himself.

Next showed a picture of the book and a crowd with Hitler standing at the front.

"It didn't take much to persuade the people, since everyone knew how Jews were the reason that the economy was so corrupt. After Hitler overthrew the pussy-ass goverment and made himself leader, it became clear to everyone that he was their only hope at ridding the world of the filthy Jews and perhaps getting the economy better. It was time to get rid of the Jews."

At this, he pressed the space bar again, showing a picture of Kyle. Stan clenched his fists, looking over at his friend.

"Goddamn it, Cartman!" Kyle shouted, holding in as much anger as he could. His first were clenched tightly, his face a deep shade of scarlet.

"All questions have to wait until the end of the presentation, Broflovski," Mr. Manette said boredly, turning the page of his magazine. It was obvious he wasn't paying any attention to the presentation.

"Yeah, Kyle. All questions have to wait until the end," Cartman smirked.

"But it's not even right what he's saying! Hitler didn't _overthrow_ the goverment, he slowly rose into power and put his supporters in high powers until he usurped the leader! This is all an excuse to spread your anti-Semitism!"

"Anti-Semitism is a belief, Kyle, and it's not polite to belittle people's beliefs," Mr. Manette said absentmindedly.

"Yeah, Kahl," Cartman teased. "Stop belittling my people. Stop being so anti-anti-Semitic!"

"Fuck you, Fat-Ass!"

"Kyle!" Mr. Manette reprimanded. "Look, both of you stop bickering like a gay married couple and just get the report over with before I send you both to detention!"

"As I was saying, Hitler managed to not only exterminate millions of Jews, but the economy began to finally get strong. Must be a connection, eh, Kyle?"

The boy only let out a growl as Cartman continued.

"Well, it was all going fine until the Allied hippies started to get involved, claiming that killing Jews was 'wrong.' Since the U.S. was run by a liberal, they all invaded Germany and defeated Hitler's army. But, rather than surrender and be a fag, Hitler continued to fight until he committed suicide so that the stupid gay Allies couldn't kill him first. And that is Hitler, strong, noble, and great."

He stopped, expecting applause, but instead only got shocked looks, some at him and some at Kyle. Thank God it was last period.

The bell rang, but no one left, wondering what Kyle would do, and if there would be a fight.

But to everyone's surprise, Kyle left the room, clutching his books extrmely tight, his knuckles turning white and hit face a dark and angry red.

Cartman laughed, the second one to exit. Stan followed him, leaving the other kids too shocked.

As the students began filing out of their classes, Stan walked up behind Cartman.

"Cartman," he called.

Cartman turned around, and Stan hit him in the face.

--

After school, Stan walked down the steps, waiting for Kyle as usual. As he waited, Kenny passed him, clapping him on the shoulder.

"I'm afraid your man's not gonna show up for quite a while," the blonde said.

"He's beating up Cartman?" Stan asked, hoping he could see the Fat-Ass get beat up by the scrawny Jew. It was just so hilarious and always cheered Stan up.

"Sadly, no. He already did that. You missed it? It was great," Kenny smirked. "No. He's talking to Wendy."

"Wendy? What's he talking to her for?" Stan asked, the sinking feeling coming back again.

Kenny bit his lip, casting his eyes downward. "You haven't talked to her yet, have you." It wasn't a question.

"Kenny, what's going on?" Stan demanded.

"Why don't you ask her yourself?" Kenny asked, looking over Stan's shoulder. Stan turned to see Wendy and Kyle talking, Kyle's chin having a bluish bruise and a cut on his cheek. Stan turned to Kenny, who was starting to turn. "And, if it helps, you know I'm still here."

He walked away, leaving Stan's throat dry. Kyle and Wendy approached him.

"I'm just going to talk to Kenny," Kyle told Wendy, briefly meeting his eyes with Stan's before turning and going after Kenny.

Wendy tucked her hair behind her ear, a nervous habit. "Hey, Stan."

"You said you needed to talk to me?" Stan asked, hoping with everything that this was all just one big misunderstanding.

"Yeah, um..." She gestured to the steps, sitting down. "Here, sit down."

Stan gulped, sitting next her.

"Look, we've been together forever, it seems, and I still really like you. But over these past few weeks, well...my feelings have begun to change, and right now I see you as... just as a friend. And, I mean, I just...I don't think we should see each other anymore. I mean, just for a little while, and then we can hang out, you know, as friends."

"You're...breaking up with me." Stan stated, his suspicions confirmed and his mind numb. "I thought things were good, though."

"They were, but...there's something you should know." She sighed, and Stan wondered how this day could get any worse.

And it did. "I've been seeing someone for a couple weeks. I didn't want to say anything until I knew it was serious, but then I realized yesterday that he was. And I_ really_ like him. He didn't want to say anything until now because he didn't want to ruin your friendship--"

Stan's mind stopped being numb, and instead exploded in anger, jealousy and betrayal.

"It's Kyle, isn't it! I thought I could trust him, my _best friend!_ You've been screwing around with _Kyle_ the last couple weeks?"

"Stan--"

"I should've known. I should've known that that was what you were doing all those times in the library, in your house, in _his_ house for Christsakes! I trusted you together I figured, 'no of course my _best friend_ wouldn't be trying to hit on my _girlfriend_ behind my back' but apparently I was wrong! But you know what? I should've listened to Cartman years ago. You're nothing but a slutty bitch."

He saw Wendy's eyes begin to well up with tears, and that brought him some satisfaction, as well as a small feeling of guilt that he ignored.

He stood up, leaving Wendy to cry and walked toward Kyle and Kenny, who were only a pair of orange dots.

He watched them, looking at Kyle, who caught his eye and ran up to him. Stan glared at his friend.

"You were supposed to be my best friend, Kyle! Why didn't you tell me?" Stan yelled.

"I'm sorry, Stan. I wanted to but Wendy--"

"Fuck you, Kyle! I hate you! You were supposed to be my friend and you betrayed me! I don't want you to come near me ever again!" Stan tore past him, leaving the red-head hurt and confused.

Stan walked away, head held high, trying desperately to put these feelings at the back of his mind before he did anything stupid out of grief. A part of his mind told him that he was still in shock.

He turned the corner, running into a strange-yet-familiar boy.

"Hey, Stan," Sam greeted, smiling.

"Hi," Stan greeted, trying to push thoughts of Kyle and Wendy out of his mind.

"Are you going anywhere?" Sam asked him.

Stan remembered his promise to go with Kyle to North Park to the DMV, but then his mind was once again filled with Wendy's words: _I've been seeing someone._

_"_No," Stan replied.

"Well, I was wondering if...you know, I mean, you're the only person so far that I've really talked to all day, so I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to show me around town? You know, give me the tour?"

Stan paused, knowing that if he did abd if he and Sam got along (which he seemed to be okay) then Sam might very well become Kyle's new replacement.

But then he thought of Kyle, of him and Wendy, looking in the direction where he last left them. He turned back toward Sam, smiling.

"Sure," Stan told him, and they walked toward South Park as Stan was trying to forget about Kyle.

* * *

It was dark by the time Sam arrived home. The day with Stan had been great, and South Park seemed to be interesting, considering how restricting and closed-minded the people in the city could be.

Sam closed the door, removing the green jacket and taking off the baseball cap. Dark brown hair waiting to be released spilled down Sam's shoulders, the maroon shirt showing off unwanted curves.

"Is that you, Sammie?" called a light male voice, Sam's father.

"Yeah, Dad," Sam replied, walking into the kitchen. "And don't call me Sammie anymore. It sounds too girly."

"Sammy can be used for guys, too," Sam's dad said defensively. "So, how was school?"

"Great," Sam sighed. "I met a boy, Stan. He was really nice to me. We hung out after school."

"Sam," came the warning voice.

"Relax, Dad. Nothing's gonna happen. I promise."

Sam's dad relaxed. "Good, cause I'm starting to like this town already. Here, have some of these."

He pointed to a tray of cookies, and Sam took one and ate it. "They're good."

"They're a housewarming gift, brought over by a nice woman, Liane something. She's really nice. I've got some other stuff in the fridge made from the other neighbors. See, you don't have to worry about stuf like that in this town like you do in the city. I think we can make it here."

Sam sighed, taking more cookies with, deciding to go upstairs.

In the new bedroom, Sam turned toweard the mirror, taking in the repressed-feminie figure in the full-body mirror.

Sam looked over at the closet, gazing at the dressers which held the tight t-shirts and the low cut tops, the push-up bras and the lacy underwear, the tight pants that showed off the ass and the skirts and dresses.It was a long time since anybody wore those, and it would be an even longer time before anyone would again.

Such was the life of a girl posing as a guy for the rest of her life.

* * *

A/N: Ho-ly sh!t that wasn't supposed to be that long. I was actually shooting for about 3,000 words give or take, but this turned into almost **8,000** words!

Just a warning, I don't expect the next few chapters to be quite this long.

Also, I apologize to any Jewish people who are out there for Cartman's report. It does _not_ reflect my beliefs and opinions in any way, since I am so in _love _with Kyle's character (after Kenny and tying with Stan, of course--hence the reason why this is going to be a Style, because that is my favorite pairing)

And I also apologize to everybody for this rant because I am typing this at two in the morning.

Tell me if you think Sam is a Mary-Sue. I want this fic to be as original as it can be. Please review, anyway and tell me what you think, as this is my first SP fanfic. Thanks!


	2. Poetic Justice

**To Love and Die In South Park**

Thank you to all my reviewers! It's great that I get feedback, as it inspires me to continue!

Last chapter was through Stan's eyes (if you didn't guess), and Sam's eyes at the end. I think I'm going to have different POVs this chapter so its not so one-sided.

Also, I'm not using Microsoft Word, but the provided Doc Manager, so please tell me if I have any spelling/grammar mistakes! I'm looking out for as much as I can, but I don't usually catch eveything.

Anyway. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 2: Poetic Justice**

"It's fine, Wendy!" Kyle protested as the brunette was examining his face and scrutinizing each mark.

He looked to Kenny, who was watching the scene with an amused expression.

Wendy tentatively reached out her hand, brushing her fingers against the bruise on his chin, pressing lightly. She gained a little more confidence, pushing harder until Kyle winced and Kenny laughed. She removed her hand, placing it over Kyle's still-healing scrape on his cheek from when Cartman had shoved him down after Kyle had punched the fat boy down and knocked him flat on his ass.

She raised her eyes from her inspection to Kyle's. "You're mom's gonna kill you if she finds out you've been in another fight. Not to mention one that _you_ started."

She retracted her arm, holding out her purse and unzipping it, digging through its contents.

"That Fat-Ass had it coming!" Kyle argued. "You weren't there in History class. And he got an A for it too!"

"It _was_ pretty bad," Kenny agreed. "But it _is _Cartman. He could've done a lot worse. And we don't know our grade yet."

"Dude, why didn't you just take the slide out if you did the PowerPoint, anyway?" Kyle snapped.

"He told me he'd kill me. And knowing Cartman he would," Kenny shrugged.

"And that's a threat how?"

Kenny shrugged.

Wendy paused, looking up at Kyle. "You two should stop fighting. I'll talk to him to go easier on you. Stop doing things in front of everyone. And _you_ should know better than to stoop to his level, especially physically. The only reason he does this to you is because of your short temper."

She went back to searching her purse, Kyle rolling his eyes.

"Why do you defend him, Wendy? You of all people know how he is."

"Look, all I'm saying is...just be nicer, okay?" She looked up at him, pouting. "For me?"

Kyle sighed, rolling his eyes. "I guess I'm gonna be seeing him more anyway. But if he tries anything, I'm not just gonna take it!"

Wendy smiled, taking out a small black object. Kyle recognized it immediately, as Wendy often took it out to either examine herself in the small rectangular mirror or to apply the tan cream: foundation. Make-up.

"What's that?" Kyle asked accusingly, eyeing the compact as if it could contain a bomb.

"It's just going to be a little. To help conceal the marks from the fight," Wendy assured him.

Kyle stuck his hands out in protest as Kenny snickered. "I'm not wearing make-up!"

"It won't be noticeable, so just deal with it, you baby," Wendy muttered, rolling her eyes.

She took out the tan sponge, brining it to Kyle's face and wiping it on his chin, his still tender bruise. She pressed it as she applied it, causing Kyle to wince in pain.

She put more on the sponge, repeating the motion. She sighed in frustration the third time Kyle winced.

"Jeez, Kyle, take it like a man!" Kenny mocked.

"How many men do you know that put on make-up?"

"Point taken."

She did the same to his scrape, eliciting another wince though it was over more quickly than the bruise. Finally, Wendy stopped, putting the sponge back into the compact and handing it to Kyle.

"Look."

He took the compact, examining the marks. They were still visible to him, but not nearly as noticeable. The color in the bruise was covered and now only looked like a smudge and the scrape was almost invisible. He closed the compact, handing it to Wendy.

"You look beautiful, Kyle," Kenny snickered.

He glared at Kenny, then Wendy. "Thanks."

"Oh, stop your glaring. You're grateful and you know it." Wendy put the compact back in her purse. "But you know, if you ever _do_ want some great make-up tips..."

"Wendy!"

"Jeez, I'm just joking, Kyle, relax!" Wendy giggled. "Don't get so defensive."

"Hm...I wonder why so defensive?" Kenny smirked.

Kyle rolled his eyes and smiled at his two friends.

"So, where are you headed?" Wendy asked, looking at her cell phone to check the time.

Kyle almost stopped, resisting the urge to smack himself on the forhead. "The DMV."

"In North Park at night? Alone? You're gonna get yourself killed!"

"Oh, well, I _was _going to go with Stan," Kyle remarked, bitterly.

Wendy's face fell. "I'm so sorry, Kyle...Here. I'll go with you to the DMV."

"No way. You're not going to drop everything for me. You have plans already," Kyle protested.

"What about you, Kenny?"

"Sure. I got nothing better to do anyway," the blonde shrugged. "'Sides, I hear the girls got legs that go out to here..."

"No, it's fine. I can take Ike. He's been wanting to get out of the house anyway," he lied.

He knew that Ike wouldn't be home, but if he went with Kenny, he knew that he would probably try cheering him up and talk about today and stuff. Truth be told he didn't _want_ anyone to go with him, and plus he wanted this trip to be as fast as possible and he wouldn't be going home at all until after he was done.

Wendy met his eyes, staring as if trying to see through him. Finally, she leaned back, sighed, and closed her eyes. Kenny watched him, his eyebrow raised as if trying to do the same.

"All right," she sighed, reluctantly agreeing. "But you call in case something happens, okay?"

Kyle nodded, smiling. "You're guys are awesome sometimes."

"Well, _duh, _we are,_" _she replied sarcastically.

She turned and headed toward the parking lot, to her car. Kyle turned toward Kenny.

"You sure you don't want me to go with?" Kenny asked. "I could show you a _great_ time."

Whether Kenny meant with random girls or himself, Kyle didn't know and didn't want to. He shook his head, smiling.

"I kinda wanna spend time with Ike. We haven't been seeing each other much lately. No offense, but it's bros before man-hoes."

Well, it was true that he wanted to spend more time with Ike. But it just didn't apply to today.

Kenny shrugged, giving up. "Whatever. Call if you change your mind."

"Thanks, dude."

Kenny turned to cross the street as Kyle continued straight. Of course, a huge truck happened to speed through the red light and run over Kenny.

It could've been his imagination, but he could've swore he heard, "Oh, my God! They killed Kenny!"

Half-laughing, Kyle gave his reply.

"You bastards!"

--

"Ms. Garrison," Sam offered between laughs, sipping the red Icee that they got from the convenient store.

Stan leaned back on the bench they were sitting on at Stark's Pond, his Icee already half gone and resting next to him. "Been our teacher since Kindergarten every year, minus a month or two. And that was _Mr._ Garrison until about fourth grade."

"Jesus Christ!" Sam exclaimed. "What, he was gay?

"For a while, yeah," Stan replied. "And then after the operation 'she' became a lesbian."

"Jeez, and I thought _Denver _was fucked up."

Sam took another sip, as did Stan. Sam was thinking of another person in South Park to name. It was fun for Stan to tell him about the people he had known for so long; it was interesting to watch Sam's reaction to all the weird stories of South Park. The people lived here for so long, they lost track of what 'normal' was any more.

"How about...that fat kid. Eric."

Stan rolled his eyes. "Cartman. Anti-Semitic, racist asshole. His mother who'll sleep with _anyone _raised him, but it's not really his mother since she's a hermaphrodite and she's really Cartman's _father_. He played with dolls until he was eleven, took a picture of Butters Stotch's penis in his mouth while Butters was sleeping, and just to get back at a kid named Scott Tenorman for stealing his sixteen dollars, he killed Scott's parents and fed it to him in a bowl of chili in the 3rd grade. There's a lot more, but that's it."

He looked over at Sam, whose mouth was wide open, speechless, and smirked.

"Y-You're actually _serious_?"

Stan nodded.

"Shit. That kid's _psycho._" Sam paused. "But if he's such an asshole to you and Kyle, why do you hang out with him?"

Stan paused, taking the chance to slurp the rest of his Icee to form a response.

"A lot of people ask that. Personally, I think it has more to do with his character. He may not be my favorite, but if not for Cartman, South Park would be totally boring. Cartman's the whole reason people like South Park so much, I think, because his character is...interesting. It clashes with the rest of us and I like it sometimes because I wouldn't be able to stand South Park without a little fighting. Besides, it's really funny sometimes when Kyle beats him up."

Stan paused, looking at Sam, who was drinking the last of his Icee with a loud slurp.

"Dude, that was totally gay." Sam smirked.

He leaned back, adjusting his baseball cap. "Hm...Cartman's partner? The one with the hood. You guys are friends, right?"

Stan nodded. "That's Kenny. He's cool. Me and Kyle are almost always partners and so Kenny usually gets stuck with Cartman. Let's see...he's from the West side, came from a pretty poor family. His parents were both drunks. He got a job--doing what, I don't want to know--and lives independently. Most perverted person I know. Has a...reputation. But he's the most laid-back person I know and is a really nice person. He's died...well, pretty much every day since I've known him."

"Died?"

"Yeah. He dies and then comes back to life. Usually in like an hour or two. Though there was the one time he died from muscular dystrophy. But I think he said it was because God wanted them to make stem-cells legal."

"He...dies?"

"I don't know how, but he does. And like _every _day. Usually he goes to Hell, unless Heaven needs him. I don't ask. And when he dies, I usually say 'Oh, my god! They killed Kenny!' and Kyle goes 'You bastards!' It's been a running gag since like twelve years ago."

"I think I'd have to see this for myself," Sam said incredulously. He leaned forward, thinking again. "How about...Kyle."

Stan paused, remembering the events today. Just _thinking_ about Kyle right now made his stomach upset. He was nauseous at the thought of his best friend and his girlfriend. He decided to answer, but with just the facts.

"Jewish. Smart, but he's getting to be lazy lately, since his mother's always on his case. His brother's adopted from Canada. He's great at basketball, and he absolutely _hates_ Cartman. He's usually pretty level-headed, and I've known him longer than anybody."

He paused, not letting Sam ask anything more. "Come on, it's getting dark out. We should probably head back."

Sam nodded, standing up. Both tossed their empty cups into the trash as they walked.

They walked in silence for a while as they left Stark's Pond.

"So, what about you, then?" Sam asked.

Stan turned toward him, confused.

"What horrific and weird things do you have?"

"Other than the fact that I just live here?" Stan retorted. He paused, thinking. "Well, let's see...I'm friends with a kid that keeps dying, friends with _Cartman_, have gotten contracted for playing Guitar Hero, have a best friend who's telepathic and a dog that's gay. How's that?"

Sam laughed. "You know, this place isn't all that bad. I thought it would be completely boring, but it seems like it's hella more interesting than the city life."

"Never say that word again," Stan glared at the boy. "Hella. That's what Cartman always says."

"Alrighty, then," Sam said. There was a pause as the two stepped out onto the sidewalk, entering the town.

"Hey, Stan?"

"Hm?"

"You're hella cool."

"Goddamn it."

Sam laughed, and the two turned the corner just in time to see a truck run a red light and hit a boy in a bright orange parka a few blocks down.

"Oh, my God! They killed Kenny!"

--

Kyle looked out the bus window as he began his trip to North Park for his license. Over the years the other two parts of Park county had become worse, greed and corruption spoiling the town and quickly making many more homeless. South Park was the furthest away from the two, almost a county of its own, and was untouched.

He watched the scenery change from South Park to a more run-down looking Middle Park and wished that Stan was with him now, and that he hadn't screwed up his and Stan's friendship.

Stan.

He screwed up his relationship with his best friend, his only _real_ friend (Kenny was a great friend and Kyle could talk to him and all, but Stan was the only one who actually _knew_ him). And for what? A girl.

He hadn't wanted to tell Stan because he was sworn to secrecy by Wendy. He knew that she had liked someone else, but wouldn't tell him who it was until earlier today. And now that he knew...it wasn't right for him to hold out on information like that. Especially now that he knew who it was he was risking everything for.

What could she even see in someone like him? He wondered. What could Stan see in a girl who would be able to like him?

He had felt like an idiot when Wendy had told him. He knew why she didn't, and she knew that he knew, and that only made him angrier at him.

And with what Cartman had done to him in History today...well, that was one of the major reasons why Kyle was so mad at himself.

He protected _Cartman._

The bus stopped, startling Kyle out of his thoughts. It was the end of the road; he would now have to transfer to another bus to go from Middle Park to North Park. He wasn't too happy about that, since buses were very few and stopped maybe once an hour or so.

Still, it was still light out, and since it was still October, the day was still fairly long. He was hoping that the wait in the lines at the DMV wouldn't be very long, and that he would be on the Middle Park/South Park bus before dark.

He got off along with the remaining passengers from South Park and other various stops along the way. There were not very many, and by far he looked the richest and most hygeine-friendly.

There was a girl about his own age with a baby who looked like she was running away from home (as she was only carrying a duffel bag and a baby bag), an elderly homeless-looking guy that they had picked up in the outskirts of Middle Park, a middle-class looking guy of about forty that looked closest to Kyle in hygeine and class (which was a bit of a relief as he didn't feel so alone in that sense) along with a woman with what seemed like her two sons.

The bus station was indoor and enclosed, once an elaborate expense in a once-rich town. It was now desolate and dirty, with sticky floors and a sickly-sweet smell. There was a squeaking sound that could either have been rats or birds, and he was sure that he did _not_ want to be here at night.

But he could put up with it. After all, it was _his _fault that he didn't have someone with him, because he had betrayed said someone for a fat asshole that he honestly could care less about. He had made his bed, it was only poetic justice that he lie in it.

There was no one waiting at the bus station with him other than the woman with the baby. They sat on opposite sides from Kyle, the baby asleep.

Kyle sighed, resting his head in his hands as he waited.

It was going to be a long day.

--

After the Middle Park bus finally showed up forty minutes later, Kyle was finally on his way ot the DMV. He checked his watch. It was 5:27. It wouldn't be dark for another hour yet, and he was hoping that maybe--just maybe--he would at least be on the bus or in the bus station by dark.

He was glad to be in North Park, but still felt a little uneasy. Middle Park was by far the poorest and run-down place in the county, having been pretty much ignored financially for reconstruction, but North Park was not much better.

North Park was the closest thing to a city within a hundred miles. It was not a good place to be at night, but it was still better than being in Middle Park. Here, at least, people were _trying--_though not succeeding--in rebuilding their town. There was much money being put into North Park, as much as one county with three distant towns could put into it, but it would always seem to just...deflate.

Kyle pulled on the thin rope hanging off of the bus window, signaling he wanted to stop. The bus continued for a block, stopping for him. The DMV was a half-block away, and he didn't mind walking.

He got off and headed toward the DMV. He was the first one of many others to get his license, even though he was the youngest of most of his class. Most people didn't have enough money to pay for Driver's Ed, and Kyle had got his through a scholarship program. Aside from Token and a handful of others, the other students would go through a 'Driver's Ed Camp' the summer after graduation.

He cursed the moment he stepped into the DMV. There were only two lines open, and the lines were horrendously long. The moment he stepped inside, he had walked two steps to reach the end of the line, yet the people at the window were almost dots.

He checked his watch: 5:48.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to be as patient as he could.

Another long wait.

--

"How can I help you?"

Kyle glared at the woman through the window, wondering how the hell anyone but Cartman could be so goddamn cheery while watching everybody else suffer as they waited in this goddamn fucking long line for _an hour and a half_ and dying a slow and torturous death.

Instead of voicing his thoughts, however, he forced a small smile. "Kyle Broflovski, here for my diver's license."

The woman (who was young an kinda pretty) began to type on her keyboard. She paused, scrolling the monitor.

Finally, Kyle sighed in relief. He'd be out of here. After all of this was said and done, he would at least be taking home his trophy: the driver's license.

The woman looked back at him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Broflovski, but the driver's license isn't valid."

"What?!"

"It seems as if you haven't completed all your hours, and the written exam seems to have been marked down. Here, if you like, I can show you the copy."

Kyle scanned the screen. _Missing: 2 hours. Need 50 hours for credit._ He looked at his test. His signature had been scratched out crudely, red ink written over it. _JEW._

"God-fucking-damn it, Cartman!" Kyle shouted, his fists clenched.

"I'm sorry, but until you complete your hours and re-take the test, you can't get your license," the woman informed him, indifferent.

"You mean I came all this way for nothing?!" Kyle was getting really angry at the Fat-Ass. Cartman was getting _really_ good at screwing Kyle around even when he wasn't there.

"Yes. Now hurry up. I have customers. Next!"

Kyle growled angrily, his fists clenched as he stormed out of the DMV.

He walked toward the bus station, nearly missing it as it was dark out.

He opened the glass door to the small booth, and sat on the bench on the opposite side from a dirty-looking guy.

The bus came in only ten minutes, and both Kyle and the guy stepped on. He was glad that it took such a short time, because his patience was at its lowest.

Kyle pushed himself over and leaned against the window as they headed toward Middle Park. There were only three other occupants besides himself and the bus driver: a guy of about twenty two rows ahead and to the right, the man from the bus station somewhere behind him, and a dark-skinned handicapped woman in the front.

He spent the ride trying to think of ways to get back at Cartman, thinking of how he could possibly reconcile with Stan, taking a short nap, and most importantly, trying to calm down for being mad at himself and at Cartman.

They arrived at Middle Park quickly it seemed, though it could just because there was no anticipation anymore.

He checked his watch again, even though it was already dark. 7:55.

He stepped off of the bus along with the handicapped woman in the front, who walked with a cane.

He stood, waiting at the bus station (though he was wishing that this one, too at least had a bench) and saw the homeless-looking guy get off too. He stood a distance from Kyle, waiting at the stop.

The bus sped away, leaving the two alone.

Here he was, alone, with a strange guy in Middle park at nighttime.

He was starting to feel a little uncomfortable, especially as he was noticing the guy looking at him every now and then.

But before the bus was even out of distance, the man turned and walked away, down the street.

Kyle let out a breath of relief.

That was, until he heard footsteps behind him.

He turned around, seeing a guy of about his age and two others approach him.

"Hey, hey, gorgeous. What's a pretty thing like you doing here?" said the guy.

Kyle had a really bad feeling about this.

He should've brought Kenny.

--

"Dude, you're pretty good!" Stan exclaimed to Sam as they were both pro-facing off to YYZ in Guitar Hero on Expert.

"I know!" Sam replied, smirking, even though he was still a few points behind Stan.

They ended the song, Sam behind by only a few thousand points. "That was pretty awesome. I didn't think you'd have Guitar Hero, let alone be good at it."

Stan rolled his eyes. "_Everyone_ has Guitar Hero, dude. Even redneck towns like this."

He paused. "John the Fisherman?"

Sam glanced at the clock, looking disappointed. "Acutally, I have to go. My dad's expecting me home to help him unpack."

"Next time, I guess," Stan told him, removing the plastic guitar and placing it on the ground. Sam did the same, and both left the room, heading downstairs.

As Sam put on his boots (he kept his hat and coat on, which Stan thought was a little odd, but figured that he still might be adjusting to the temperature) the doorbell rang twice.

Stan answered it, finding an out-of-breath Kenny.

"Dude, what's wrong?"

"It's Kyle. He hasn't come home."

* * *

A/N: Oh, cliffie cliffie. What happened to Kyle? Was it Kenny? Wendy? Officer Barbrady? (sorry, I just saw 'Cartman's Mom is Still a Dirty Slut' on TV)

Um, yeah. I freaking hate DMVs, hate driiver's licenses, as somthing similar happened to me (I'm sixteen and still getting the hang of driving) so I wanted to put it in there. Though the ride was only like ten minutes, but whatever.

I'm starting to get a little more humorous (as this is my first attempt at humor) in my writing style, so bear with me.

Hm...anybody see any pairings going on? Please tell me. (and any requested pairings, I'll try, so request away!)


	3. Romantically Challenged

**To Love and Die In South Park**

A/N: Thank you again to my reviewers!! This chapter was very hard to write, and it might seem a little choppy. I dunno. My rant's in here somewhere.

And by the way, there is definitely gonna be some StanKyle eventually! It's one of my top pairings!

This chapter is a little angsty. I'm trying to do humor, but since I usually write angsty/drama stuff, I tend to stray. Oh, well. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 3: Romantically-Challenged**

Kenny saw the internal battle in Stan's eyes, between believing Kenny and loosing the argument with Kyle, or his trademark stubbornness.

Stan glanced to his left, and Kenny followed his gaze. There was the new kid, Dan or Sean or something. The kid had been tying his shoes when Kenny came, and had just stood up.

Kenny looked back at Stan accusingly. "I didn't know you had company."

Stan glared back at him defensively. "This is the new guy, Sam. I was just showing him South Park."

Kenny looked at this Sam. He didn't know how much Stan had told him about Kyle and Wendy, but knew that this must be one hell of an awkward situation.

There was something off about this kid, though. The bagginess of his clothing, the way the hat looked tight and showed no hair except the bangs, a face that seemed too clear and too soft...

"Dude, that's a girl, Stan," Kenny stated.

Sam's expression didn't change like he expected. He--or _she_, he was certain now--seemed to get mildly offended. "Dude, what the hell?"

"Kenny, Sam's not a girl," Stan reassured him. "We've been hanging out the last two hours and I think I'd know."

Sam pushed past Kenny, who was still standing in the doorway. The agitation behind the shove made him grin. "Whatever, dude. I'm just saying I see enough porn to know what a girl looks like. And _that_ looks like a girl."

Sam turned back to him. "What do you want me to do, take off my pants?"

"That'd be a start. We can take turns." Kenny winked.

Sam turned toward Stan, ignoring Kenny. "Bye, Stan. I had a great time. Bye, weird kid."

Now that the third wheel was out of the way, he turned back to Stan. He would deal with that mystery later.

"Dude, Kyle--"

He saw Stan's amused grin fall to a scowl. "He can take care of himself. Did you try calling?"

Kenny nodded. "Sheila called me a little while ago. She tried calling him, but there's no answer. I asked around, but nobody's seen him. I thought maybe if we got enough people together, we could try looking for him or something."

Stan paused, and for an instant Kenny thought that Stan would finally give in.

"Are you in?" Kenny asked, hopeful.

Stan's expression hardened again, and Kenny knew that there was no point in arguing anymore. "If you're so worried about him, then find him yourself."

Kenny sighed, ready to open his mouth when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

Kenny ignored it, instead hoping that putting a litte bit of guilt on Stan might make this stupid fight end faster.

He shrugged. "Whatever, dude. Just remember, Kyle's alone in Middle Park and it's the middle of the night. Even _I _wouldn't do that, and I don't exactly care about dying. But if something happens, I don't think he'd come back like me."

He turned and left, and after Stan closed the door, he reached into his pocket and retrieved his cell phone.

1 NEW TEXT.

He figured it was from Wendy or Butters, who were both helping to search, and opened it.

From: Kyle

**Meet me at Stark's Pond.**

He froze. So Kyle was okay? Then how come he hadn't shown up yet?

He opened his phone to call Sheila and end the search when his phone vibrated again.

**Don't tell anyone yet. Just you.**

Kenny sighed and closed his phone and began to walk toward Stark's Pond.

--

Kyle sighed, leaning back on the bench.

Stark's Pond was dark, the moon and the stars and the town the only lights, and crickets and wildlife the only sounds.

The events of the day washed over him once again. He clenched his fists, needing to hit something. He had already kicked Cartman's ass, so that was out of the question. No, he wanted to go over to Stan's house and just fight him. God, he sounded like Russell Crowe.

He also needed to go home, be with his family and go to sleep and push this day from his mind. He needed to go home soon, because he knew his mother would probably be starting her own personal search-and-rescue team if she hadn't already. But he couldn't; not only was it because of what he had, but he still needed to get today out of his system.

Kenny was the perfect person to do just that. No, Kyle wouldn't take his anger out on the blonde (although he was sure Kenny wouldn't mind if Kyle killed him a few times) but Kenny was also a really good listener, besides Stan.

He _really_ needed someone to talk to about today.

He sighed, closing his eyes, and began to go over everything that happened today.

--

_"Hey, hey, gorgeous. What's a pretty thing like you doing here?" asked the lead man._

_He was about Kyle's age, cleanly-shaven, well-dressed and his face was pleasing to the eye. However, there was an almost slimy air to him, one that was like Cartman's but somehow much worse._

_On the contrast, though, the two men behind him were big with biker beards, obviously the muscle, and both with indifferent expressions._

_Kyle said nothing, not wanting to offend them in his angry state, but wanting them to leave as fast as possible._

_"You know," the guy started as he stood in front of Kyle, the two other men now on eiher side and effectively trapping him. "My colleagues and I couldn't help but notice that you seem a little...unhappy. And well, it's very lucky for you, because we just happen to specialize in making people very happy."_

_Kyle gulped, now afraid for his life. He felt in his pockets for anything that could be useful in a fight. Nothing except his wallet, which he could always throw in case._

_The man stroked his own chin, looking thoughtful as he observed the redhead. "Let's see what we got here. Judging from the look, I'd say fairly rich, from the way you're at the bus station I'd say you're either from North Park or South Park. From the way you're built, I'd say academic who's seen a little sports action on the side...family life good?"_

_Kyle was taken aback. "I-I guess."_

_"Brothers or sisters, younger or older?"_

_"One brother--younger." He was too afraid to lie._

_"Role-model type, gotcha," the man smirked. "Probably your first time. Got just the thing."_

_He reached into his front inside pocket of his coat, taking out a small square plastic packet filled with what looked like--_

_"Tell you what, since this is your first time with me, I'm gonna give you a little discount. Two packs of weed for the price of one. Fifteen. It's harmless, non-addictive and a great pick-me-up. What do you say, gorgeous?"_

_"Dude, I'm not doing drugs," he blurted, before his brain caught up with him._

_The guy turned towards the other men with a look of hurt on his face. "Look, guys. I'm trying to give a nice little gift to this guy and he's saying he doesn't want it!" The guy whined, and Kyle had a vision of who this guy might have been: a rich, spoiled little boy who became homeless within a day and had to resort to surviving any way he could._

_He turned to Kyle. "See, these guys don't like people who un-gift. You don't want to make them angry, do you?'_

_Kyle looked at the two men on either side. No matter how hard he fought, he knew he wouldn't be able get away._

_He sighed. __"No, I guess not."_

_The dealer smiled. "Good. We have a deal, then. Twenty dollars."_

_"What!" Kyle shouted, his jaw dropping. "You said fifteen!"_

_"Twenty-five's a reasonable price, I think," the dealer continued. "In fact, it might be a killing."_

_Kyle sighed again, afraid to say anything more as he reached into his pocket. He took out the loose bills, counting them quickly and stuffing the two singles back into his pocket. The dealer handed the two packets and grinned._

_"Thanks, kid. That should make you real happy for a little while."_

_He snapped his fingers at the two other men and they left, heading down the dark streets, probably to intimidate someone else. Kyle was hoping that they would've just taken the money and the drugs and left._

_He held the two little packets between his thumb and forefinger. He couldn't go home with this, that was for sure, but he had been raised not to waste money, especially twenty-five dollars._

_He put the packets in his pocket and waited for the bus to arrive._

--

He found the red-head on the bench overlooking the pond, as he had figured.

Kenny walked toward him, the dead leaves crunching under his boots causing Kyle to finally notice him.

Kyle's eyes followed the blonde as Kenny made his way over to the bench, tossing him two things in succession. Kenny caught them, examining the projectiles as he sat down. He looked to Kyle questioningly.

"Thought you might like it," Kyle explained as he turned his head toward the water once again.

Kenny's eyes widened. "Kyle, you're not _using_, are you?"

Kyle snorted. "Nah. I got caught up with a guy...figured I wouldn't waste money, and I knew you'd put it to good use."

Kenny was still skeptical, but pocketed the packs nevertheless. "Thanks, then."

Kyle was silent, and Kenny turned to look at the pond.

Kyle was being unusually quiet, and Kenny figured that he wasn't called out here for nothing. But still, he would wait until Kyle was ready to talk.

"What's Hell like?" Kyle asked, breaking the silence.

Kenny was startled; they rarely talked about his deaths besides the times he actually _did_ die, and that was just the famous line. But he was never asked about the afterlife.

"It depends on the person," he began. "Discriminatory bigots like Cartman are surrounded by a fictitious stereotype of whatever group they hate most: blacks, whites, Jews, gays, Muslims, men, women. Murderers have their victims kill them every day. Hunters and cannibals have to shoot and eat themselves. Wife-beaters get their asses kicked by women--little girls, too. Child molesters can't get rid of Chris Hansen and Steve Wilkos. Then there are, of course, special cases for crappy musicians who have to listen to their own music. We already have a big spot reserved for Miley Cyrus."

Another small silence, and Kyle continued, elaborating his question. "I always thought that my personal Hell would be being around Cartman all the time. But I now I think that today is my personal Hell."

Kenny sighed. When had Stan become the stubborn dumbass and Kyle the emo one?

"Dude, this is just a small fight. You two go through these like water."

"I don't know, dude," Kyle replied, almost automatically. "I mean, it just feels different. This isn't about him and me anymore. This is about his girlfriend, too."

Kenny ran a hand through his hair and waited for Kyle to continue.

"I should've told him, I know that. And I would've, too. If I had known that she was seeing _Cartman_ behind his back, I would've..." His voice trailed off, and he pulled his ushanka down to cover his eyes, leaning back.

Kenny could tell that Kyle was close to breaking from hysteria, whether in anger, laughter, or tears, he couldn't tell.

Kyle sighed, trying to regain his composure.

"We were studying in the library, doing a paper on the Obama/McCain/Clinton primaries and how they affected the U.S. Something was off, and I knew that she couldn't work unless she got it out. I asked her what was wrong, and that was when she told me. 'I think I like someone, Kyle, and it's not Stan.' She began to tell me about it, and she liked him more and more every day. She asked him out on a date, to see if she could get it out of her system. They went on another date, and another, and then this morning she told me. She wouldn't give me a name before, she said, because he was a good friend of Stan's. And then today...she told me it was Cartman. _Cartman._ I was protecting the Fat-Ass the whole time. Wendy didn't tell me because Cartman was worried about Stan's feelings, she did it because she knew I would tell Stan right away. I betrayed my best friend, and I lost him. This, Kenny, this is my own personal Hell."

Kenny shrugged. "Dude, you gotta chose between close friends. Sometimes it's right, sometimes it goes horribly bad."

Kyle put his arm over his ushanka, which was still covering his eyes. "I know. But, I mean...remember the last time Stan and Wendy broke up?"

Kenny grinned. "And Stan was a gay-ass pussy Goth kid?"

Kyle nodded. "Stan stopped talking to us, remember? He just...wasted away until he got into that shit. That was the only time they broke up. They've been together for like eight years, and I don't know what he'd do. And if he did anything...it'd be my fault."

"So, if Wendy told you about Cartman and you told Stan right away, she and Stan would still be together?" Kenny asked.

"I...I guess not," Kyle replied.

Kenny could see that cheering him up wasn't going to help any. Kyle wanted to wallow in his misery and cry over his best friend like a little girl who got rejected... Something clicked in Kenny's mind.

"Kyle...do you like Stan?" he asked, turning toward the redhead to study his reaction.

Kyle lifted the ushanka from over his eyes to glance lazily with an incredulous expression. "Of course I do. Just because we're fighting now doesn't mean I hate him."

"No, I mean...like...love him."

Kyle shrugged. "Well, I guess so. We're pretty much like brothers. Why?"

Kenny face-palmed. "No...I mean...forget it."

If Kyle was this romantically-challenged, then there was no chance in hell that he would even know if he liked somebody.

He sighed, looking again at the redhead. "So...you wanna share?"

Kyle's face was blank. "Share?"

Kenny smirked, thinking of how dirty his question could have been taken. Well, really, anything said by anyone could have a double meaning. He elaborated. "Well, you got me this...awesome present. Just thought you might..."

He saw Kyle's face fill with recognition. He shook his head. "No way, dude. I don't want to get into anything like that and wind up like Towelie."

Kenny grinned, remembering their friend. He raised his voice to imitate Towelie, cocking his head to the side. "You wanna get high?"

Kyle laughed, standing up. "Come on, dude. We should probably get home."

Kenny followed suit, standing up. "Yeah...you know, your mom's out searching for you already."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Figured as much."

They began walking toward the street...that was, until Kenny tripped and rolled down the hill, landing in the deep end of the pond.

He was under for a while, and Kyle was sure that he was dead. Again. Maybe...a full minute?

"Oh, my god! They killed--"

Kenny resurfaced, by the shallow end. Kyle rushed over, extending a hand which Kenny took and pulled him up.

"Thanks for your help, Kyle," Kenny muttered half-sarcastically as he wrung out the bottom of his parka.

"Figured you drowned," Kyle shrugged, offering a small smile.

"Already died today," Kenny replied.

Kyle smiled. "Yeah, I know. I saw."

Kenny shrugged. "Wasn't that interesting, but whatever."

"_Wasn't that interesting?"_ Kyle quoted incredulously. "You are seriously fucked up."

Kenny grinned proudly as he ruffled his hair, getting the water out.

Kyle recoiled, getting splashed. "Gross, dude."

Well, he figured, at least Kyle was in a better mood. Somewhat.

--

If anyone had asked him what perfect 'moment' it was that he fell for her, he would have told them to screw themselves because he did not date hippies, or hoes.

But, he admited to himself, the 'moment' was eating the quadrouple-stuffed Oreos with her in the library in the fouth grade.

True, he had noticed some respectable qualities about her before--like what _really_ happened to Miss Ellen--but never really _noticed _it until the debate team.

And then she had kissed him, then deemed it as 'a need to clear the sexual tension' and he was hurt, but then he realized just how bitchy that was and made him like her even more.

But he didn't like hippies, and he sure as hell wouldn't _like_ kissing one.

It wasn't until years later (and weeks earlier) that after a short partnership for a science project that she told him that she still liked him. Of course, she had said, it might be just the pressure again, as it was with the debate team, so they should go out on one date to see.

The date consisted of arguing, insults, and a brief and angry kiss.

Then it was the Monday after that fateful Friday evening and as the two threw insults at each other in their science class, she blurted that she still didn't know what her feelings were. Of course, another date would have to do.

And so he gave in--reluctantly, of course, because since they were partners this whole semester, if she couldn't concentrate on anything but his hot, sexy body (in his mind, that was) then it would doom his grade to Hell with Kenny. It had absolutely nothing with the fact that she had given him butterflies sitting next to her and had wanted to kiss her for a long time. Nothing like that.

And so their second date consisted of a gay hippie chick-flick, and an argument which turned into a more..._heated_ argument in the car.

The next Monday was pretty much the same: arguments, insults, indecisiveness, and again setting another date.

She had made him promise that he wouldn't say anything to Stan until she was sure she knew what her feelings were. It would break his heart to know she had cheated.

He agreed, saying it was only fair since Stan was probably pounding Jew-ass behind her back anyway. And of course, he wanted to savor the look of horror when Stan was dumped. But he wasn't giving in becaue her eyes had locked on to his, showing a moment of vulnerability. Not to mention the fact that he he _had_ told that pillow-biter Stan, he could count on never having a 'heated argument' with her again.

He had her wrapped around his finger.

So why did he care if she was upset?

He forcefully slammed the book he was reading down on his lap.

"This book sucks ass!" he whined. "It's already chapter three and there's almost no plot except for a new character. The characters are boring and the humor is lame! I can't believe how many people say it's good when it's crap! Can't we do something more _fun?_"

He looked to his now-public girlfriend, who had her hands on her hips in anger. "It's a romance novel, the plot unfolds slowly. Give the characters more time to develop, and the author is usually known for drama so _of course_ the humor's gonna suck! Give it more time, it'll get better and you know you've gotta finish that before break, so hurry up, and were you listening to anything I said before?"

Goddammit_,_ he thought talking about school would work. Oh well. Once a rant, always a rant, he guessed. There was no choice but to give in and make this go faster.

"About Jewboy," he grumbled, looking at the discarded book on his lap.

"I don't care what you call him when it's you two or here, but this crap in public is just too much! Kyle's a good friend of mine and I hate seeing him all torn up because of you! It's because of you he could've died tonight, because you humiliated him in front of everyone and ruined his and Stan's friendship!"

"And also denied his driver's license," he admitted quietly, not because he felt guilty for upsetting her, but because he could rob Kyle of telling her first.

She fumed even more. "Cartman--"

He smiled at her reassuringly. "Don't worry, babe. I'll fix everything." He threw the romance book off his lap, taking her hands to pull her onto him. "Who needs romance novels anyway?"

She didn't budge, still standing up and retracted her hands as if he were a posionous snake. "You're damn right you're gonna fix it. And until you do, no more touching."

He reached his arm out to pull her towards him and try to persuade her.

"Any touching will result in automatic break-up," she stated.

His hand fell limply onto his lap.

Within minutes she parted from the house.

He picked up the discarded romance novel he had to finish for school (as ordered by Ms. Garrison), but after a few paragraphs he threw the book down in frustration.

Goddammit. He needed a plan to get those Super-Gay Lovers back together. Not like he cared about those butt-pirates, but he wanted to be around Wendy again so she could make him feel good. Her being happy with him was like a life-time of Cheesy Poofs, but a hundred times better. And as long as that feeling was there, he was happy. _Estatically_ happy, if that was a word.

He sauntered into his room, hopping on the computer chair and turning the computer on.

He needed a super-awesome-o plan to get the fags back together. But first he had to know his targets first. And what better way then research?

He wondered who he should look up first. The years had given him great computer skills, as it was the closest thing besides Clyde Frog to a real friend.

He decided on digging up stuff on the Jew first, as reading about Stan and Wendy together and only piss him off right now. He searched everything on the dirty Jew that he could find.

After hours of reading, something caught his eye. He clicked the link, and a pop-up flew up.

He nearly fell off his chair.

"_No fucking way!"_ his shouted at the top of the lungs. _"No! No!"_

He hit the motherload of all the dirtiest of dirt.

As soon as the shock cleared, he smiled evily.

And a new plan formed.

* * *

A/N: That's all folks. Suprisingly, Kenny was the easiest to write, since a lot of him is based on me (I _am_ the one with the dirtiest mind out of all my friends--to the point of irritation :p) Cartman was sort-of hard to write, but I think he turned out okay, probably since I wrote him in at 4am and my mind is extremely irritable late.

Anyway. Tell me what you think!

And by all means, predict away (I live off of predictions)


	4. Chemistry

**To Love and Die In South Park**

A/N: Hi, everybody! Thanks again to all everyone who viewed/alerted/favorited and especially my reviewers, including Digi-Girl101, Tabbikatt, RangerInBlack, Forever In Paris, OMFGUKILLEDKENNY, and tpfang56.

To Tabbikatt: I feel your pain when it comes to Miley Cyrus. And it made _my_ day when you said you'd write more in your story :D Oh, yeah. And have fun (or I hope you had fun, I guess I should say :) in California)

And I was so upset when I heard that not only did Bernie Mac died (who I LOVED his show, and he lived so close to me, my grade school actually played his niece in basketball ((and won)) and he was THERE) but so did Isaac Hayes, aka Chef.

CHEF CANNOT DIE!! I was so upset. Honestly, I hope that the reason he died is not because of that 'fruity little club' he joined. I would be so sad.

So, this chapter is dedicated to Bernie Mac and Isaac Hayes.

Also, since this is an OC story, there will be a little more OC from now on. I just don't want it to be too much of an OC since it's only a part of a multi-plot story.

Also, there's a quote from a TV show somewhere in here. If you guess it, you get an unhooded talking Kenny plushie!

* * *

**Chapter 4: Chemistry**

_The brunette girl stared at the reflection in the full-length mirror as a brush softly stroked her hair. She was impatient, and worst of all, she hated her hair. It was getting too long. I was not supposed to touch her shoulders._

_"Your hair is so beautiful," the woman brushing her hair told her lovingly. She was in about her late forties, with neck-length dark hair that was beginning to show some gray. "It makes you look like a little princess."_

_In the mirror, the girl looked up at the woman, rolling her eyes. "I'm fourteen. I don't wanna be a 'princess.' I wanna cut my hair short, like the rest of the girls in my class."_

_"All right. I'll make the appointment next weekend. Do you want me to do your hair up for the dance?"_

_The girl sighed, knowing that since she was going to get her way, she might as well make her mother happy and do whatever she wanted. "I guess..."_

_She felt her long brown hair being pulled away from her neck, and a slight pinch as it was pulled tight into a bun. She took in her appearance: her normally unruly hair in a bun, make-up on her face, earings and a necklace sparkling, a deep turquoise-colored halter dress flowing down just below her knees, strappy shoes and a very small handbag. She felt like she was looking at a complete stranger, but a beautiful one._

_"Do you honestly have to chaperone?" the girl whined. "It's not like me and Danny are going to do anything. It's only Homecoming."_

_She watched as her mother's mouth contorted into a worried thin line. "I know, sweetie, but I have no choice since I'm on the school committee. Besides, I'll be on the other side of the room the whole time near the food."_

_"Making sure no one spikes the punch?" the girl joked as the doorbell rang._

_Her mother smiled. "Something like that. Now come on. I'll bet that's him right now. And don't pull down that bun tonight. For my sake?"_

_The girl sighed, rolling her eyes. "Sure, Mom. I won't put my hair down tonight. But we _will_ get it cut."_

_"All right. I give in." Her mother smiled, and that was the last night she would see her mother smile again._

--

Two years later, and Sam was looking into that same mirror.

She had not cut her hair, respecting her mother's wishes. It was too much of a painful reminder anyway. It would be so much easier to play the role of a boy if she had just cut it extremely short. But every time she got her dad's electric razor to do it...the last memory of her mother stopped her.

Today, Sam went through her normal routine in front of that mirror that she had to do for the last six months. She pulled her hair up into the baseball cap with an invisible hair net sewn into the inside. After a few bobby pins were stuck in odd places to safely lock it in place, she moved on to finding baggy clothes.

It was very convenient (and probably intentional) that South Park was such a cold place, as it enabled her to pile on layers of clothing and hide her feminine figure underneath. She started with a light tank top, then moved on to a baggy t-shirt, a dark sweatshirt, and finally, her coat. She put on her pants, wearing her favorite baggy khakis. And the last thing was the small medallion that she attached to her jacket that she could not go anywhere without. It was the reminder of why she had to do this and why she had to keep going.

As she headed down the stairs, she had to remember where the kitchen was and finally entered the small room. Her dad was there, wearing a light blue apron that read 'Kiss the Cook' with pink gloves, an old gag present from his brother.

She saw a plate at the center of the kitchen table with a large stack of pancakes on it, and grabbed two or three with her fingers.

"Thank God for pancakes, I was worried it'd be eggs _again,_" Sam told him half-sarcastically.

"No kidding. I was worried I had forgotten how to make anything _but_ eggs for a while," her dad replied. "And use a plate. I don't want syrup all over the table."

Sam rolled her eyes (which she did quite often) and began looking through the cabinets to find the dishes. "Which one has the plates?"

"Third one to the right," her dad replied, before turning to glare at her. "Which you would _know_ if you helped me unpack last night."

Sam remained silent as she found the one she was looking for and began heading back to the table.

"I don't mind you making friends here, Sam. You know that," her dad told her sincerely. "But I just want to make sure that you're not hanging around the wrong people."

"I know," Sam replied, not wanting to have this conversation, especially so early. She was reminded of that blonde from last night, the one who seemed to see right through her. "Dad, if someone here found out about me, what would happen?"

Her father gave something between a grimace and a sarcastic smile. "We'd have to leave South Park immediately, go deeper into hiding. Maybe forego schools and jobs altogether. But that's a worst case senario."

Her heart raced at the thought. She had to avoid that kid with the hood at all costs.

"So," her father started as she began to eat her pancakes. "Tell me about this Stan boy. I don't want him corrupting you."

She smirked at the way her father worded it. "Oh, he's _such_ a bad influence. Last night all we did was drink alcohol and do hard drugs and have sex."

She looked at her father, who was not happy with her response. She sighed, becoming serious. "He sits behind me in one of my classes. We started talking, and he's really nice. He's on the football team and we're a lot alike."

She smiled to herself as she remembered their talks. It was amazing how alike they were. Their personalities were a lot alike, their habits, and their hobbies. Kindred spirits, as a friend back home would say.

"Well, just be careful, Sam," her dad continued. "Don't get _too _attached."

She didn't have to ask what this meant. Rule number one: no falling in love. She could have people she trusted, but it would always have to be at arm's length. She couldn't have anyone finding out about her.

The phone rang. Her dad grabbed the phone off its cradle on the counter.

"Hello?" he asked, his voice going up an octave to his 'polite voice.' "Yes, this is the Parker residence...yes, he's here. May I ask who's calling?"

He held the phone to his chest, giving Sam a mocking look. "It's _Stan_. _He_ says _he_ wants to talk to you."

Sam rolled her eyes, taking the phone. "Stan?"

_"Hey, Sam. I was wondering if you wanted to catch the bus to school?" _Stan's voice sounded on the phone. She smiled.

"Sure. You wanna meet here or at your place?" she asked, glancing at her dad. She mouthed _'school_.'

_"Whatever's good. My house is in between two stops, anyway." _There was a pause on his end. _"You know, if you wanna come over we can play Guitar Hero or Rockband, too."_

Sam managaed a smile. "Sure, sounds good. I'll be there in a few. I remember the way."

_"Great," _Stan replied, and she could hear the smile in the voice.

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Sam turned toward her dad. "I'm going over to Stan's before we catch the bus. Just to hang out for a bit."

She grabbed her backpack off the chair and slung it over her shoulder.

"All right, and have fun at school," her dad replied.

She rolled her eyes, about to give a sarcastic comment, but decided against it. After all that Stan had told her about this town, maybe school wouldn't be so boring after all.

She raced out to meet her new friend.

--

Kenny yawned as he walked toward the bus station. Tuesday mornings were usually a killer and it had taken him a lot to get up out of bed, let alone go to school. Thank God for coffee.

He made his way over to the familiar bus stop, seeing Kyle's red and and Cartman's brown. Both were dressed in normal clothes, as was he. He walked up to them, taking his normal place between Cartman and Kyle.

"Hey, guys," he greeted, his voice still groggy.

"Hey, Kenny," Kyle greeted dejectedly. He was wearing jeans and his dark red winter coat, which his mother bought to 'match his hair.'

Kenny noted the tone of his response, as well as the unusual absense of the second daily greeting. "Where's Stan?"

Normally, after a fight between Kyle and Stan, where only one would be mad at the other, it would take a good night's rest and it would be okay. Kenny had figured that today, Stan would still be a little upset, but again friends with Kyle.

Kyle looked around, as if waiting for Stan to show up all of a sudden, and then cast his gaze downward sadly. "I-I don't know, dude. He's usually here before you. Maybe he's just late."

Cartman laughed. "Stan's not late, you retard Jew, he's not coming. Sorry, Kahl, but your Lover-boy's on the rebound with that new kid."

"What're you talking about, Cartman?" Kyle asked.

Kenny's heart sank. He hadn't told Kyle about the new kid last night...

"Uh, Kyle--"

"Why, Kahl, I'm surprised you didn't know," Cartman feined innocence in his sing-song voice. "After all, all Stan and that new kid were doing yesterday were hanging out _all day_. Wait a minute...wasn't Stan supposed to go with_ you_ yesterday?"

Kyle looked bewildered and hurt. "He was...with the new kid the whole time?"

He looked up to Kenny as if for an explanation, and the blonde could only nod in agreement, feeling sorry for Kyle. He too was surprised that Stan wasn't holed up in his room and crying over loosing both his girlfriend and best friend but instead having fun with another person.

"That's right, Kahl," Cartman continued smugly as Kenny heard the bus's engines in the distance. "As we speak, he's probably having rebound butt-sex with the new kid. It won't be long before he replaces you completely."

Kyle clenched his fists, although Kenny was surprised that Cartman wasn't gloating. Nothing about how he had succeeded in breaking up both Stan and Wendy and Kyle and Stan's relationships in one blow.

But to both's surprise, Kyle sighed and unclenched them, the anger seeming to leave him. "You're right, Cartman."

The bus pulled up to their stop, and Cartman swore, defeated. Kenny sighed, running a hand through his hair as the three got on, Cartman first, followed Kyle and Kenny.

Cartman almost immediately sat next to Butters, which surprised Kenny. Had he and Wendy already fought already? Maybe it was because of what had happened in History class yesterday. She _had _told Kyle that she would talk to that asshole about it. Kenny watched amusedly as Butters began to make small talk with Cartman to try to cheer him up, much to Cartman's chagrin.

During his distraction as he watched the scene, however, Kenny ended up walking right into Kyle, who had stopped. Nobody was in front of Kylem and the redhead had his fists clenched at his side.

"Kyle, what..." his voice trailed off when he realized what Kyle was looking at: a few rows down sat Stan and the new 'boy' laughing and talking like old friends.

"Kyle, don't--" he tried, but Kyle was already making his way toward them. Kenny could only follow and watch.

As soon as Kyle approached them, the two stopped their laughter, most likely because of the angry look on Kyle's face.

"What the _hell_ are you doing, Stan? That's _my _seat," Kyle fumed.

Stan's face was unreadable, and Sam looked between Kyle's angry expression to Stan's cold face. Finally, he--_she,_ Kenny reminded himself--spotted the White-Out that marked the seat as Stan and Kyle's.

"Here, dude, I'll find somewhere else--" Sam began to rise, but Stan gripped her jacket firmly, stopping her. He never once broke eye contact with Kyle.

"Stay," he ordered calmly. "Kyle, you've already chosen your friends. Now I'm choosing mine."

As the two began to silently fight it out, Kenny met Sam's eyes. He--she, _whatever_--glared at him, clearly remembering their confrontation the previous night. As now clearly wasn't the time to get Sam to fess up, he decided to wait until later.

They stopped their glaring--or staring in Kenny's case--contest when Kyle stormed off toward the back because of something Stan said. Kenny reluctantly followed. Kyle sat down in an empty seat, corssing his arms angrily. Kenny sighed and began making his way over toward him when he heard someone call his name.

He turned, seeing a hot brunette--Emily something--patting the seat next to her flirtatiously. The low-cut top, short skirt and seven layers of make-up suggested she was easy to get a date with if not more. And, it had been a couple of days since he had gotten anywhere with a girl, because of the busy weekend and the whole 'fight' thing last night.

He began to make his way toward her...until he caught sight of Kyle, sitting alone and looking out the window, looking lonely.

Kenny cursed his conscience and passed her to sit next to Kyl, who looked up and gave a small smile.

Kenny crossed his arms dramatically. "I hope you know I gave up a chance to get laid by coming here."

Kyle managed a small smile, a silent thanks. "Dude, you're a man-whore. That's not a big deal considering you get laid like every night."

Kenny smirked. "Yeah. Maybe you'll be the lucky one tonight."

"Uh, no."

He saw Kyle's faint smile fall as he turned his head to look out the window. Kenny sensed Kyle wanted to be left alone with his thoughts, as was the case of last night at Stark's Pond.

Which, in turn left Kenny alone with his. There was still the question of whether Kyle had any feelings for Stan other than platonically, as it seemed Kyle had gotten more than a little jealous of Stan's latest friend.

Which brought up another question--why was Stan talking with this girl and not throwing up? He hardly talked to any girls outside of school besides Wendy. And why else would a guy hang around a girl for anything besides action? (A question that helped support his theory of Kyle's sexuality as it seemed there was nothing going on between him and Wendy)

Unless...Stan didn't know it was a girl.

So the whole thing last night at Stan's place wasn't sarcasm. She was honestly posing as a guy, not just being a tomboy. She had the whole class, the whole town--hell, even _Kenny _had been_--_fooled.

But why?

The new kid was a mystery, and Kenny was usually a genius when it came to reading people. He was about ninety-six percent sure that this 'Sam' was a girl--the other four percent reserved for the slight (and pathetic) possibility that it was a guy who hadn't quite reached puberty yet. So why would a girl want to hide her features? Sam's face didn't seem ugly.

He wondered how he was going to get her to break so he could solve this mystery. Probably best to play it by ear.

No matter. He'd find out the truth soon.

And when he did...maybe he could get laid?

--

The bell for sixth period rang, and Sam began making her way to the chemistry lab.

So far her second day had been...interesting. Before school, of course, was the little confrontation between Stan and his friend Kyle.

She had asked Stan about it, and he replied that he was mad because Kyle stole something of his, and then changed the subject. She wouldn't pursue it. After all, she had only known him for a day.

First period was all right. It was Study Hall, but the teacher, amazingly enough, brought in _Dance, Dance Revolution_ instead and had a contest for all the students as to who would win. The winner, of course, was a kid named Butters (an odd name for a sixteen-year-old boy, Sam had thought) and he had won five dollars.

Second period was English. She resumed her new spot next to Stan (who was in front of that annoying weird kid, Kenny) and the two began talking. It only bothered her, however, when she had caught Kenny staring at her. When she asked him what the hell his problem was, he merely shrugged and told her that he was 'using his X-ray vision to admire her hidden eye-candy.'

It was when she swore at him that Ms. Garrison threatened to move the three, and the whole class promptly shut up for the remainder of the period.

The next two periods went by slowly, as it was Physics and Trigonometry. Math was not exactly her forte, and both teachers had monotonous voices that seemed to drone on. She shared the latter class with Stan, but his seat was on the opposite side of the room. The only saving grace was that homeroom and lunch were next.

In homeroom, she ended up befriending Token, who she had met briefly during the DDR showdown first period. He seemed nice enough, and she sat down at his table during lunch, along with some of his other friends, Craig, Clyde, and a few others.

And thus was her day so far. She had to admit, South Park seemed somewhat normal compared to what Stan had told her last night. She assumed that he had been bullshitting her the entire time, but then again she _had _seen someone get hit by a truck, too last night and be perfectly fine a few hours later.

As she walked into her Chem class, she caught sight of Stan, who had been walking down the hall opposite. He stopped at the entrance of the lab, as did she, smiling.

She smiled back teasingly. "You're in like all of my classes. Are you stalking me?"

He grinned, walking in. "I _was _here first. If anyone's stalking, it's you."

Sam followed him, sitting down on the chair he had offered in the second to last row. "So, do we always get to play DDR in Study Hall or was that just a one-time thing?"

"You're lucky you got Packer. I've got Miss Kowinya and she's like a homework Nazi. If we're not 'doing something productive' then we get a detention."

"Ouch," Sam made a face as she reached out to get her notebook.

As she did so, her arm brushed Stan's. She tensed, her heart jumping and an odd feeling in her stomach.

_What was that? _she wondered. _I haven't felt that since..._

She tensed, the shock setting in. She hadn't felt something like that since two years ago. And that had all ended horribly.

She liked Stan, sure, but did she _like_ him?

What would that mean for her? Sure, she had counted on meeting people here, becoming friends and most likely it would be with guys. But she hadn't even thought about the possibility of _liking _someone. What would that mean? Would she have to give everything away? It would definitely change their relationship, that was for sure. And if they reacted the wrong way...she couldn't reveal her identity.

The tardy bell rang.

"So where were you in lunch?" Stan asked, curiously, not noticing the odd expressions on Sam's face moments ago.

Sam composed herself, turning back toward Stan.

She shrugged, remembering her lunchmates with a smile. "I found some new friends. That Token Black guy invited me to his table." She shot Stan a teasing look. "That _is_ all right, right? I _can_ make other friends?"

Stan shrugged, playing along. "Hey, it's an open relationship. As long as you share." He broke character, waving it off. "Dude, you can hang with whoever you want. I'm not _that _much of an asshole."

"I beg to differ," came another voice, teasing and familiar...

Sam turned to see that blond kid, Cartman's partner from yesterday, sitting in the seat next to her. She stiffened. She did _not_ like this kid. He leaned forward in his chair, waving at her. She glared back.

Stan had told her last night that this kid was one of the most laid back and nicest people he'd ever met. She felt otherwise, as he had come across blunt, rude and stubborn. Still, first impressions were usually not always accurate.

"I think I remember someone breaking the dam?" the blonde teased Stan.

"No, Kenny, we _all _broke the dam, remember?" Stan retorted, and the two laughed. Sigh, inside jokes.

As the teacher, Mr. Oakey, entered the room and walked to the front of the class, the blonde turned toward Sam.

"Hey, _dude," _he stressed the word, and Sam again was beginning to feel the urge to punch him. "About last night. No hard feelings. I won't tell anyone you're a girl."

"I'm not," Sam replied through clenched teeth. _How the hell could he possibly know_? She asked herself, inside filled with fear.

"Okay, okay," he held up his hands defensively. "You're not a girl. You're a 'boy.' Either way, it's all done with, established. I'm Kenny."

He was so smooth, yet also so abrasive. She was beginning to regret not taking the seat at the end of the row.

She didn't respond, merely focused her attention on the teacher in front of the room, who was beginning to talk about the history of chemistry, and great chemists.

"Okay," he began, and had Sam attended South Park elementary, she would've known that he had been dubbed 'Mr. Mackey Jr.' by other students. "We're going to assign partners for the chem projects. Know that these partners will be your partners all year round and for the final unless requested otherwise. When I call your name tell me your partner, okay?"

Sam turned toward Stan, trying all she could to ignore Kenny.

"So, Stan, who do you think you're gonna pick?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "I dunno. Unless you wanna..."

She gave a small smile. "Well, if you're willing to risk your grade. I suck at chemistry."

"Rebecca Cogswald?" called the teacher.

"Bebe Stevens," replied the girl, before going back to giggling with Bebe.

There was a silence as the Mr. Oakey continued calling names, in an odd fashion that seemed to have no pattern. Sam thought about the last two days, how it was only her second day attending South Park High and already it was much more interesting than she expected.

She began to imagine what it would be like here, weeks and months ahead. She could see hanging out with Stan for a while (though she knew that he had Kyle and apparently Kenny, too) and maybe even getting close to Kyle, once this whole thing--whatever it was--blew over.

But then reality sank in. She liked Stan. They were very much alike, as she found out yesterday. How could she keep lying to him? It would be hard, especially if she found she really trusted him. Her dad would find out, and they'd have to move...

"Kenneth McCormick?" Mr. Oakey called.

"Samuel Parker," he replied with a smirk, causing Sam to look up at him in shock.

Sam opened her mouth to protest, but then thought better of it.

True, she hated this blonde kid, as he seemed nosy and rude beyond Hell, but at the same time, it might have been a blessing in disguise. She didn't want to become too close to Stan, and after what she just felt, she definitely couldn't let it be more. This kid would be a good distraction.

She looked to Stan helplessly, who shrugged his shoulders.

_That's the way the cookie crumbles,_ she thought to herself, a saying her friend used to have.

When it was Stan's turn, he picked some kid named Butters Stotch. An odd name she kept hearing. Who would honestly name their kid Butters?

After the class was done picking their partners, each group had to pair up and sit by the other. Stan left, but she and Kenny stayed.

She looked at Kenny, and he grinned.

Go South Park.

* * *

A/N: Okay. I officially hate myself. Actually, let me explain: I didn't prewrite this chapter. And since school started (today) I kinda sorta rushed through this. So yeah.

And I know you guys are wanting to get to teh slash (and it is _teh_ slash) but I want to make one thing perfectly clear:

The purpose of this story is to show that Stan has a bridge between 'OMG, I'm straight' to 'OMG I'm totally gay for my best friend.' Cause, yeah.

Though I do love most of the STYLE stories, they are getting to be predictable. One realizes he's gay for the other, confesses, the other leaves, angst, angst, more angst, and then BAM! the other realizes they love the first back. Doesn't really happen in real life half the time.

And I also want Kenny to get some.

Whew. Please review. Good or bad, it don't matter. Suggestions are always welcome too.


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